


Healing the Corruption

by SilverWolf7



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 12, Amara can wait, Angel Corruption, Castiel is a good brother, Chronic Pain, Depowered Lucifer, Forgiving Castiel, Forgiving Sam, Gen, God chooses Lucifer over Amara, God takes responsibility, Healing Corruption, Hurt Lucifer, Hurt/Comfort, Lucifer Redemption, Lucifer in the Men of Letters Bunker, Lucifer's Cage, Mark of Cain, Nick as a permanent Vessel, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Suspicious Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2018-12-30 03:39:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12099894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverWolf7/pseuds/SilverWolf7
Summary: Lucifer was corrupted when he was given the Mark of Cain.  After helping his dad and the Winchester's out with Amara, God finally decides it is time to heal what he broke.  Too bad there's more than just the corruption to heal.Alternate ending to season 11, moving into an alternate season 12, in which Lucifer heals from the damage done to him by God and Amara.





	1. Pain in the Vessel

**Author's Note:**

> I have had this idea in my head since I first heard Lucifer's rant in Rock Never Dies. What if God did decide to stay with him and help him heal and give him a permanent vessel like he did with Castiel? 
> 
> Chapters should get longer after this one, and it will be updated sporadically while I write my Lucifer (TV show) series.

Everything was pain. His Grace felt shattered, his vessel was gone completely as he had been ripped out of Castiel and his Jimmy suit and he was having trouble moving in any one direction.

His wings were dislocated so he was unable to fly to get away and find himself a possible hiding spot to lick his wounds. He needed to heal, to rest and to find a vessel.

Sam would never say yes again. He had finally gotten that message loud and clear. 

Yet another thing in his life robbed of him. Some days he just hated absolutely everything.

He wondered what was going on in the battle. Did dad win, or lose? He had been aware of the sun fading, but it burning bright again after a few hours of waiting. He had no idea if that was a sign dad was dead or alive.

His inability to move was very annoying, but he at least would have time to heal. He would prefer to be in a vessel and curl up under sheets though. He was physically tired and he couldn’t sleep in his natural form.

Time either distorted or he had blanked it out when he was aware he was no longer alone. He went on alert, his wings quivering but unable to rise and flare in a threatening display. He let out a warning growl to warn whoever it was away. He really should have known who it was. When he saw the body of Chuck walk into his field of visibility, he was slightly surprised.

“Oh, Lucifer. Look what she’s done to you.” Chuck walked forwards and a hand landed just above his top right wing. He bristled, metaphysical feathers puffing out. 

His dad smiled sadly at him. “Yeah, I guess I earned that. I brought you a present.” 

And with a flick of a finger his old vessel, Nick, was lying on the ground in front of him. It was no longer rotted, perfect and empty. He hesitated, thinking there was some sort of trick in entering the offered vessel. He had liked Nick. All that pain had called out to him like a moth to a flame.

“I reinforced Nick so that he’ll hold you as long as you want a vessel. Just like I did with Jimmy for Castiel. If you leave the vessel, just make sure he’s somewhere out of the way from anyone who may see him as just a dead body.”

Lucifer would have pondered more on that thought if he hadn’t wanted to move and the only thing in his head was that with human limbs helping to hold his Grace together, he may be able to move again. He accepted the so called gift, pouring himself into Nick and finding it a lot more comfortable than it was during the apocalypse.

For about two seconds. Then he was reminded of the fact that human bodies have nerves. His Grace was coined to this vessel closely and his true body was badly hurt and weakened. Every single one of those nerves lit up signalling pain.

He screamed.

A hand was on his shoulder, holding him still and the pain drained slightly so it was bearable. “Shit, sorry. I forgot about the nerves. Either way, you’re going to be in a lot of pain. I haven’t got the power right now to just up and heal you after what Amara did to me. I can lessen the pain if I am in contact, but you’ll have a long, slow, painful healing process.”

He whined at that. “Oh, great. Ow. What happened anyway?”

He got a gentle rub on the back at that. “I’ll tell you later. I’m taking you back to the Winchester’s bunker. It will go a lot smoother if you are not conscious.”

He nodded quickly, wanting to not be awake right then. “Sleep would be good. Put me out.”

His dad looked down at him, stopped the oddly comforting back rubbing and within seconds he begun to have trouble keeping his eyes open.

“You’ll be fine. Go to sleep, son.”

He went to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So not sure about the characterisation. I'll need to write a bit more and get comfy with these boys before that feeling goes away. Anyway, this is basically filler before the fun starts. The majority of this fic will be from Lucifer's POV as he gets some quality bonding time with his dad and little brother. And the Winchesters.

Chuck had come back.

Not only had Chuck come back, but he had come back with an intact and still very much alive Dean. Sam was very grateful for that, because he was about two seconds away from being shot by a British woman who thought he was trying to end the world or something ridiculous like that.

The woman seemed surprised when the only person her angel ward blasted away was Castiel. Chuck glared at her before her gun vanished. She was now tied up in the dungeon. 

It wasn’t until he and Dean went back upstairs to ask Chuck what had happened that they both realised that he didn’t look too healthy.

“You okay?” Sam asked, taking a few hasty steps forwards but stopping short of reaching out to grab an arm.

“Not really. Taking the soul bomb out of Dean took a lot out of me. I need to rest and recharge after what Amara did to me. But there’s still one thing I need to do before I bed down for the night.”

Chuck trailed off and Sam waited patiently for what exactly it was. Dean was not so patient.

“What? Eat? Because I think we need to do a grocery run.”

Chuck shook his head. “No. Lucifer was badly hurt. I can feel him hanging on to life as best he can, but...his Grace was torn. He needs a vessel to hold himself together or he will likely pull apart.”

Sam frowned at that. “I am not saying yes to him. I will never say yes to being his vessel again.”

Chuck smiled at him. “I am not saying you should. The world needs you as you.”

Dean stepped forward then, his posture threatening. “Keep him out of Cass, too.”

Holding up a hand, Chuck sighed. “I was going to do for him what I did for Castiel. I have restored his old vessel, Nick. Lucifer was happy with Nick. Or at least content with him. I wouldn’t exactly call Lucifer happy.”

Sam relaxed at that. Sure, that vessel had a lot of bad memories attached to it, but at least Nick would be an empty vessel now and a permanent one. He would no longer be called out for being Lucifer’s true vessel. 

By his side, he also felt Dean relax. “What crap deal did Lucifer make with him and when did he die?”

Chuck frowned. “Lucifer promised justice for Nick’s wife and child’s death. As soon as Lucifer had finished destroying the person who killed them, Nick opted for going to Heaven to be with his family. He didn’t hurt Nick beside the dreams. And since the dreams were the norm for Nick, Lucifer really didn’t have much to do with that anyway. That didn’t stop him tweaking things though. Psychological torture.”

Chuck frowned. “He really has to learn to stop doing that. He hasn’t had the mark for millennia. I just don’t think he learnt that he could change. I think it’s time that I make up with him. Properly I mean. I’ll bring him back here, because it’s the safest place for him to pull himself back together. And don’t worry, Sam, we can set up another room for him so he doesn’t take yours.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yes, that makes me feel better...”

Dan snickered by his side and shook his head. “Well, I’m no fan of having him stay, but if you’re here too, I guess it’s alright. You can keep him in check.”

Chuck nodded and grinned at them. “Yes, of course. It will be a while before he can safely use his Grace. He really was badly hurt in that battle. Mind if he uses the room next to Castiel’s? The closer he is to someone with Grace, the better.”

Dean frowned at that, but nodded. Sam was relieved that it meant Lucifer wouldn’t be anywhere near his room. Plus neither Lucifer nor Castiel slept, which meant they could do things like watch television together.

Sam nodded his head. “We will make up the bed and get it ready. He’ll at least be comfortable then.”

Chuck nodded back and frowned. “You might want to put a chair in there too. Constant supervision is needed with that one, for the time being anyway. Someone has to stop him using his Grace.”

“Yeah, we kind of figured that,” Dean stated, before turning to walk to the corridor which held the bedrooms. 

Sam blinked at Chuck and had no idea how to keep the conversation going. He awkwardly shifted from foot to foot. “So, how long have we got to get the room ready?” he asked when nothing else came to mind.

Chuck got a far off look in his eyes, before sighing. “Give us at least 5 minutes, 15 at the most. I will probably need to rest in between jumps there and back again.” As soon as he finished his sentence, he was gone.

Sam blinked. There were so many people he knew that needed to wear a bell to announce their presence. Shaking his head, he headed off in the direction Dean had gone to help with the room.

It didn’t surprise Sam at all that Dean had decided to fix up the room on the side that was furthest away from his own room. Since Dean and Cass had chosen rooms on the same corridor, but far enough apart a television wouldn’t wake the other unless it was on very loud, there weren’t many rooms left on that corridor. There was just one other room to the end of the corridor. 

As it was, there wasn’t much left to do in the room by the time he got there. Dean had already stripped the bed of 50+ year old sheets and had made it up with military styled precision, new sheets freshly washed now filling the room with that just done laundry smell.

He hoped Lucifer didn’t mind, because Dean had a thing about doing laundry obsessively. At least everyone would know it was clean and fresh. Sam went next door to Castiel’s room and grabbed one of his chairs and put it beside the bed.

“Lucifer does not get one of the big beds. Not like the bastard’s going to sleep anyway. What’s with the chair?”

“Chuck wanted a chair in here for either him or Cass to watch over him. Something about constant supervision so he doesn’t use his Grace. I think he really is hurt.”

Dean grunted at him as he straightened out the duvet. “Not like he doesn’t deserve it or anything. Why? Feeling sympathy for the Devil?”

Sam glared at him. “He did help us in that fight.”

“Yeah, and he used one of us as a meat suit and used him to stab a bitch. Cass could have been the one hurt.”

Sam sighed and nodded. That was unfortunate, but true. “Okay, I’ll give you that. But from what Crowley said, Cass was either well deep under Lucifer’s mojo, or he really was consenting. I haven’t had time to talk to him about it yet. Too much has been happening, with the sun almost going off and all. Someone should ask him, before pointing fingers.”

Dean glared at him. “Just as long as we’re clear you’re not jumping straight on team Devil, fine.”

Rolling his eyes, Sam, moved the chair so it was closer to the bed. “Of course I’m not. That dick has done far too much to hurt us. He tortured me personally in Hell for how long? Trust me, I know what he’s capable of when in a shitty mood.”

Dean opened his mouth as if to add on to that, but closed it again when Chuck arrived, holding in his arms a very unconscious Lucifer. They watched as the Devil was laid on the bed in the room he had been given. “Wow, is he actually asleep?” Sam asked.

Chuck nodded his head. “I put him under to travel. I also bound his Grace. He’s going to be upset when he wakes up, but it will stop him from using it.”

“Great, just what we need. Pissed off Satan.”

Chuck huffed out what could have been laughter or impatience. “I’m going to commandeer the room next door and lose consciousness myself now. He should stay out until morning. Night, boys.”

And with that said Chuck walked out the door, Lucifer was left lying on top of the covers of the bed and Sam had no idea what it was they had gotten themselves into this time.

On the upper hand, it didn’t look like the world was ending. That was a plus.

He’d worry about all the mess in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wings and fetching things.

The first thing that grabbed his attention as he began to gain consciousness was that someone was holding his hand. The second was that it was harder than he thought to open his eyes after being asleep and it was disorienting. The third he noticed when he shifted his limbs slightly and that was pain.

The pain wasn’t as bad as before. A deep ache over the entirety of his vessel, but at least it was a pain he could deal with. 

He opened his eyes and found that it was his dad holding his hand. He frowned. “You’re still here?” he asked, not knowing if this was a trick or not.

Chuck smiled down at him and it was definitely him in there. So much light showing through. His wings twitched and he winced. “Ow, my wings are out of place.”

“We’re waiting for Castiel to get back so we can fix that problem. At least that is a physical problem we can fix easily and it will lessen your pain quite a bit.”

He frowned. “What happened to Castiel? He was untouched when I was ripped out of him, I know that. Auntie Amara was after me, not him. She never went for him.”

Dad grinned and looked at their hands. “Oh, Castiel is fine. A woman from the British Men of Letters got in and used an angel banishing sigil on him. He is on his way back now. Should be here in a couple of minutes in fact. Dean called him to let him know what is going on.”

His only answer to that was to close his eyes again and let out a low “Hmm.”

His dad ran a hand through his hair and it relaxed him a lot. He frowned. “Don’t put me back to sleep, Dad. Wanna be awake for the wings...”

Chuck huffed out a small laugh at that. “I’m not putting you asleep. Your body is just naturally doing that on its own. Rest is the best thing to help you heal and the vessel knows that. We can wait until you’re awake again, if you’d like.”

He shook his head. “No, wake me up when Castiel gets here...”

“As long as you don’t make a fuss over it, or I will send you back to sleep right after.”

He frowned, but nodded. He’d take that. He knew he’d probably be in enough sharp pain to fall asleep again right afterwards, and he wanted to talk to his little brother. He found he missed the company of another sharing the vessel with him.

Before he could really think any further on it, the vessel pulled him back into sleep.

He was woken up 10 minutes later by someone gently shaking his shoulder. He wanted to roll over and escape that, but it hurt to move.

He whined. “My everything hurts, just so you know. Castiel is here?’

“Yes,” cam the short reply right by his head from the angel in question. Lucifer managed to get his eyelids to function and opened his eyes.

He grinned slightly. “Hah, got used to looking at that face in the mirror. Help me up.”

Between Castiel and Dad he was soon sitting up, taking a few slow deep breaths to try and fight through the pain it made worse. His wings wouldn’t stop twitching, which really didn’t help.

“Damn things need to be fixed already. Hurry up so I can lie back down again...”

He thought it would be his dad who did the actual fixing of them, but instead he held his hands tightly in his own.

“I won’t break, Lucifer. Squeeze as hard as you want. All six are out of alignment. Thankfully there are no fractures. You’ll be back to flying in a week or two.”

He grunted at that and waited as Castiel got comfortable behind him. He felt hands on the top pair of wings, feeling around the shoulder joint until he could tell which way to move the wing to make it pop back into place. “Doing the first wing now,” Castiel stated, giving him no chance of bracing himself and pulled slightly before pushing down. The joint clicked back into place with an audible sound and the pain for a second blinded Lucifer.

He understood then why his dad decided to let him squeeze his hands. At least that stopped him from screaming out loud.

Castiel at least had the sense to wait until his breathing levelled out and he wasn’t clinging on to their dad like he was the only thing grounding him to Earth. 

“Second wing,” Castiel stated and again there was the feel of joints sliding back into place and an audible sound as they did. He whined out the pain, and gripped the hands in his tight again.

Castiel, deciding to leave his large main wings for last went down to the smallest set below the strong mid pair which were used primarily for flight.

These ones were slightly different in the angle Castiel needed to pop them back into place, needing to pull down and then straight out. They too were easily slid back into place, but the pain was blinding.

The vessel seemed to have a life of its own, even without Nick in there sharing it with him. He could feel the wetness of tears of pain on his face and was thankful that it was a normal reaction to pain. He refused to outright cry.

Castiel began poking round his large flight wings now, trying to find the right angle. He heard his little brother sigh. “I need you to lie down on your front, Lucifer. The angle is wrong for me to do this from a sitting position.”

And he knew that these two were going to be worse to set back into place. One sentence and he was already tensing from the promise of excruciating pain he knew was to come. Taking a deep breath, knowing he was no coward, he slowly let go of his dad and laid himself down. He could feel the weird angles of the wings as they shifted with the different position and winced. Dad did say no fractures, but this felt bad nonetheless. 

“Okay, I’m ready...” he stated, making sure that he was as relaxed as he was going to get. He buried his head in a pillow that was there, waiting for him to go back to sleep. 

He felt his hands being gripped by his dad again, before Castiel’s hands were once again feeling up his wings.

The first one fell out of alignment once, as Castiel got the wrong angle and yeah, okay, he screamed. Thankfully, the pillow muffled the sound. It slid into place and stayed there the second time. Just one more to go. One more and he could then go back to sleep and try and ignore the pain. He had noticed that, even though they still hurt like hell, the other four wings were now just throbbing like the rest of his body. 

He didn’t hear, or Castiel didn’t state, when he was going to do the last wing. It didn’t want to go back in place either. Castiel grunted above him, a knee on his back as he pulled and pushed but couldn’t get the right angle.

If his little brother pushed any harder there would be a fracture. Thankfully on the third try it thunked into place. Whether or not there were any breaks he wouldn’t know. The pain that had been growing with the constant shifting reached its height as the joints slid back together and he passed out.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, what happened?” Dean asked Cass, as soon as he stepped out of the room that currently housed the Devil.

“Four of the six were easy to put back in place. His main pair were not,” Cass stated and Sam had momentarily forgotten that archangels had three sets of wings instead of one, like the other angels. 

He remembered every single time his shoulder had popped out of joint and the weeks it took to heal properly and winced. “All six were out of joint? Ouch.”

Cass nodded at him, before turning back to Dean. “I need some sheets that are clean, but you will never use. I need to wrap them so he can’t use them.”

Dean grinned at hearing that, before giving a short nod. “Right, sheets. You know, now is the time I wish humans could see angel wings, because he’s going to look ridiculous.”

Sam grinned at what his brother was saying and tried to imagine a wing with a sheet holding it still and to his body. The thought was quite funny, but he also knew that it was necessary. “Do you want to stay here with him, Cass? We can go get the sheets.”

Cass frowned slightly, before nodding once. “I will be in my room until you get back. There isn’t much more I can do. He is sleeping once again.”

They both frowned at that. “I didn’t think angels slept?’ Sam stated, before remembering that time when Cass, after having use up a lot of his Grace to get them back out of the past, had collapsed for a good couple of hours. 

“Normally, we don’t. We can, if we want to try it, but mainly we do not. He is very weak and injured at the moment though. All his energy is going into healing his Grace. He is...badly fractured. It’s hard to look at.”

“He’s the Devil, Cass. He killed you once, remember?” Dean stated, anger clearly showing in his voice.

Cass nodded his head. “Of course I remember. I had also just tried to hurt Michael. Lucifer and the other Archangels, with the exception of maybe Raphael were always close. I never expected anything else from Lucifer when I set Michael on fire. But he is my brother.”

It looked like Dean was about to say something else, but Sam hit him on the shoulder and shook his head. “Dean, leave it. Lucifer has wronged all of us in the past. Chuck is here to fix that. And speaking of, wasn’t he going to go get rest himself? What’s he doing in there with Lucifer?”

“Holding his hand.”

And with that, Den snorted in apparent humour. “Aww, he needs Daddy to hold his hand.”

Cass stared at Dean, unamused. “I just put six shoulder joints back in place. Imagine the pain of that. Would you want to be alone?”

Sam shuddered. “Not really. Just one shoulder out of place is bad. He has 8 of them.”

Dean grimaced. “That is just weird, dude. Weird.”

And with that said, the tension in the corridor outside the room Lucifer was in dissipated and they all gave each other short looks, before laughing. “Damn, this whole situation is weird, Dean. Way to state the obvious.”

Dean grinned at him. “Yeah, you got me there, Sammy. Alright, let’s go get these sheets to wrap up some wings.”

They had no idea how big they needed them, so grabbed four. Two from double beds, and two from singles. Since they were old but washed from the Men of Letters beds and not ones that he or Dean personally used, neither of them really cared what was done to them.

One thing was sure though, both of them wanted to watch Cass bandage Lucifer’s wings with them, even if they couldn’t see anything.

It was bound to be an enlightening experience.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer and Chuck have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not watched season 13's episodes yet, so have no idea what it's like. I don't know if I am just missing it or what, but I haven't been able to find it anywhere on Australian television. So, I'll wait for it to come out on DVD, boo.
> 
> So, this may contradict things that are in season 13.

Chapter Four

Castiel had the equipment needed to bind his wings so they wouldn’t move. 

His little Seraph brother had also woke him up after he had fainted of all the damned things he could have done. Also, the Winchesters seemed to be in there with them. He frowned as he focused his eyes on Sam and Dean.

“What?” he asked, not sure what the hell was going on anymore.

“We had to see this,” Dean stated, a look of almost feral glee on his face. That couldn’t be good.

It was also confusing. Lucifer’s brow furrowed. “...what?” 

“We want to watch Cass bind your wings. We can’t see your wings, so I guess we were hoping that we’d see the blankets being used to bind them, or if they disappear too,” Sam stated.

And that at least made sense. Curiosity was also one of his faults too, unfortunately. But at least he was no longer confused as to why the two humans were in the room. He was so damn tired. He grunted as he managed to get his body into an upright position. “Just...hurry up so I can go back to sleep.”

“Of course. I will go in the same order as I set them.”

He hummed in agreement and nodded his head. He was thankful Castiel was being gentle, because he refused to hold his dad’s hand in front of the humans. Also, with them back in place, the pain from his wings was now a lot less. They did still hurt a lot though and he knew he had to stop moving them so they could properly heal. With his Grace so badly hurt, he didn’t have much energy to waste in fixing them up directly. But they would at least heal on their own in a week or two.

Thankfully, he wasn’t a human. 

Castiel was halfway through his bottom pair of wings when he must have fallen asleep again, because the next thing he knew it was morning, all his wings were done and he was alone in his room.

The uninterrupted sleep seemed to have done him some good. He didn’t feel as tired, though the act of waking up was still disorienting. He wanted to stretch out his wings, but the cloth holding them to his body reminded him that it would be a bad idea. 

Slowly, he turned around and slowly raised himself up to a sitting position. His body ached all over, but it was not that bad right then. He poked internally at his Grace and frowned when he wasn’t able to connect. 

He knew what that meant. He had felt that once before, when his dad had decided to block him from hurting the Winchesters last time he had been in the bunker. Of course, he had still been at full strength then and he had been inside Castiel’s vessel, sharing headspace in a kitchen of all places.

Anger reared up inside him. Of course, help save the world and you’re still treated like the worst evil to have ever walked on the Earth. Okay, so that one good thing didn’t change all he had done before, but until he got a proper damn apology, he was not going to think of himself as the bad guy here.

He was locked in a cage for millennia. Hadn’t he been punished enough already?

Nothing had changed at all. He was still mistrusted, even as weak and hurt as he was.

He doubted he’d be able to do much with his Grace at all even if he did have full access, so why block him off to it?

A low growl escaped his lips. “Dad, get your ass in here, now!”

He knew his dad heard him, wherever he happened to be and settled into the pillows of the bed to wait. If the old man didn’t show up, it would just be proving his point, after all. So, he was actually quite surprised when he only had to wait two minutes, before his father opened up the door, walked in and closed it behind him.

Chuck sighed. “Okay, Lucifer. I heard you. I was in the middle of cooking pancakes, but I heard you.”

Lucifer crossed his arms and glared. “You did it again. You can’t leave well enough alone, can you? What am I supposed to do, bat them with my inefficient human arms and hope to bruise them?”

His dad sighed and shook his head. “Lucifer, you don’t understand...”

He snorted and shook his head. “Oh, I understand all right. You don’t want me to hurt your precious special humans. Your two hunter saviours of the world for when you decide to leave again.”

The old man had the audacity to shake his head. “No, Lucifer. I didn’t bind your Grace for any reason that even remotely involves the Winchesters. I wasn’t actually thinking of them at all when I did it. You are badly hurt. Do you remember what it felt like when you first entered Nick again?”

He frowned and tried to think back. He remembered being presented with Nick and the urge to move so he had accepted it and... “No. I don’t. I remember accepting the vessel, but not anything that happened after. No, wait, I know I agreed to come here. Why?”

“You were in absolute screaming agony, Lucifer. Your Grace is too injured. It set off the nerves in the human vessel. All of them. The pain was too much. I had to stop it so you could function.”

And he blinked at that. He wanted so much right then to check his Grace to see how much healing he had left to do, but couldn’t. Frustration overtook the anger, making him irritated. Why did everything have to suck so much? He had no way of knowing if his dad was telling the truth or not.

He intensified his glare. “Really? Prove it.”

And his Dad looked at him like he was crazy. Well, okay, maybe he was crazy, but that’s kind of what happens when you get stuck in a cage for so long all on your lonesome. Dad had no one to blame but himself for both his and Michael’s craziness. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Lucifer.”

Lucifer shook his head. “All you do is hurt me. What’s different this time?”

Chuck looked to the ground, an unhappy look on his face. He sighed. “Lucifer...are you sure? I won’t keep you in pain for long, if that’s what you want. I will bind you again. But, if you are so sure you want me to prove I am telling the truth, I will unbid you now.”

And that right there set off alarm bells in his head. Maybe it was the truth, but he had no way of telling. He took a deep breath and nodded. “I want to see for myself...I don’t trust you to tell me the truth. You hid it before from me, why not again.”

Chuck sighed and flicked a finger.

Lucifer soon realised why he didn’t really remember until he was feeling it again. The pain was blinding. On the other hand, he could feel his Grace again, and before his dad bound him again, he managed to assess the damage. 

He remembered feeling fractured yesterday. This was bad. There was barely any change at all, even after sleeping most of the night away. He wished he could remember just how bad it had been, but he had been so disoriented from being forcibly ripped out of Castiel that he hadn’t been concentrating on the right things.

The pain died down again to manageable levels and he stared at the blanket he was sitting on top of. So, his dad was telling the truth then. He knew there was no way he would be able to even remotely function with his Grace in the state it was without it being bound.

He was suddenly a lot more upset than angry and he decided the best thing to do is sulk. He flopped himself down on the bed and glared at the ceiling. 

He heard a sigh from the door. “I think it might help a bit more if you tried to get up and see if you can walk. There’s pancakes for breakfast. Chocolate chip. Yummy.”

He turned his gaze to his dad again. “You do know I don’t need to eat, right?”

Chuck nodded. “Yes, of course, but it will give the vessel a boost in energy, and the more energy you have the faster you will heal.”

That was a tempting thought, but if he ate he’d have to deal with ridding the vessel of waste products and he wasn’t sure he was up for that. “Why should I eat pancakes?”

And with that, his dad smiled widely at him. “Well, there are also several brands of cereal, eggs and bacon and toast. You don’t have to eat the pancakes. I just was making them, that’s all.”

He blinked and frowned. “I...I don’t think I want to eat. But I would like to get up. This ceiling is boring.”

A small laugh was all the answer he got from that, before his father joined him by the bed. He was ashamed that he needed the help to stay on his feet. He was so weak and useless, he could barely stand. He knew he’d get better and stronger given time, but right now he was one huge ball of very frustrated light.

“I hate this. I hate everything right now. I hate you and the Winchesters and food and walking...”

Dad just smiled and nodded at him. “I know, son. Don’t worry, it will get better. You’ll gain strength enough to walk on your own pretty fast. It’s the Grace that will be the problem.”

Sighing, he nodded. “Yeah...”

And with that said his dad helped him up the stairs which led to the main bunker. He’d have to be social for the first time since he was so badly injured and he was so not looking forward to it.


	5. Chapter 5

They were halfway to the kitchen when the smell of food hit his nose. It was only then that he realised that he would eat, if for no other reason than to calm the vessel down. He grimaced as his insides began to feel different and make noises at him.

The worst thing about it is that, while he was sure it was hunger because it was triggered by food, he had no idea how to tell cues for the vessel’s needs. Since it looked like he was going to have to put up with it until he was healed, he was going to need to learn them.

His dad smiled at him by his side. ‘Still sure you don’t want to eat?”

He huffed and scowled. “Shut up. It’s not my fault the vessel is taking over without the help of my Grace...”

“Yes, I know. Come on, we’re almost there. Then you can see what there is to eat and pick something.”

By the time they reached the kitchen he was exhausted and didn’t really feel up to anything but going back to the bed he had been put in yesterday. Still, he was here now and his dad helped him sit down in a seat next to Castiel. He let himself lean against his little brother and closed his eyes.

“I should not be this tired after that small a walk,” he whined into Castiel’s shoulder.

Dean snorted from across the table. “Dude, you didn’t even walk in here, you were dragged.”

He scowled. “Gee, thanks for the reminder I can barely stand on my own. How nice of you.”

He sat up straighter, and looked at the table. Dean had a plate of bacon in front of him. Sam had some brand of cereal he couldn’t identify. Even Castiel had a plate with a piece of toast on it in front of him, covered in light brown goop he knew as peanut butter. Having Nick’s memories helped a lot.

There were also pancakes, toast, fruit and eggs on the table to eat. Just looking at the food made him salivate. He had no idea of what everything tasted like though, whether he would like anything. So much food, but he had no idea what to start with.

Dad came over and put down another plate of pancakes, this one with blueberries. A small pitcher of cream and another of maple syrup was placed next to the two stacks of pancakes.

Lucifer wondered if his dad had made the pancakes for him, but he didn’t think he was ready for something so...fluffy. Instead, he slowly reached out for a piece of toast. He got halfway, before the others in the room with the exception of his dad, began staring. He drew his hand back to his body and left it lying in his lap.

How was he meant to do this with everyone staring at him?

“I want to go back to my room now...” he said, his voice a lot more quiet than he would like, but he felt like he was being stared at and not for any good reason. He really didn’t want people to watch him try food for the first time, even if it was something as bland as a piece of dry toast. 

Castiel turned to look at him. “You said you couldn’t stand.”

He sighed and ground his teeth. “Yeah, which means I need help getting back. Which is why I said out loud that I want to go back to my room. It’s not like I’m getting there on my own, is it?! I would have left already if it was possible...”

Naturally, by that time Dad had sat down and grabbed himself a few pancakes to eat. “If you want to go to your room, Castiel can take you. Or you can wait until after I’ve eaten.”

He sighed loudly, before grabbing on to his brother. “Fine. Take me to my room...”

Castiel stared at him from a very awkward angle. “Umm, why are you holding on to me like that?”

He sighed loudly again, before letting his head rest against his brother’s shoulder. “My legs won’t hold me up...I’d rather be carried than dragged. I’m in enough pain as it is without adding another walk to it.”

He felt more than heard Castiel’s reply to that. A hand made it under his knees and soon he was lifted up and out of the chair. His vessel obviously didn’t like that as it felt appropriate to set its face on fire. That was what it felt like anyway.

He could hear Dean snickering from the other side of the table. He watched from his seat in his brother’s arms as Sam hit Dean on the arm and glared at him. Lucifer smirked at the older of the two hunters. He didn’t have any time for saying something though, as Castiel used his perfectly fine legs to walk him out of the room. He was a little envious that he wasn’t able to do that himself, but at least he got out when he could, instead of having to wait at the table.

He had wanted to talk to Castiel alone anyway. Now all he could think of was eating. He wondered how humans dealt with this on a regular basis. It felt weird and horrible. And he knew he’d probably be dealing with everything else as well, until his Grace could pick up the job of keeping the vessel going without aide.

He laid his head down on Castiel’s shoulder and let his mind wander to what life was like before he had been given the mark, when he had last been happy. Everything had gone to Hell, first metaphorically and then literally, when his father had gifted him with the worst present ever.

He no longer had the energy to be angry at his thoughts. He needed to eat and go back to sleep before he did anything else. He could talk to Castiel when he woke up again. His little brother had gone through all the crap he was currently going through before. Three times if his memories were correct. One of those was a month’s long stint as an actual human. 

He only knew what Castiel had decided to share with him, but it did make sense why he would prefer to live on Earth instead of going home to Heaven. Apparently, if he wasn’t around, Castiel was number one on Heaven’s shit list.

He didn’t notice when his eyes had closed, but he lost a little time between the kitchen and the door to his room. He grumbled into his brother’s neck. “Damn I’m tired...but I need to eat.”

Castiel opened the door, put him on the bed and stared down at him. “Why did you leave the table?’

He shrugged and looked at the opened door. He couldn’t hear anyone loitering in the halls. “Everyone was staring. I didn’t like it. I haven’t eaten before. I’ve never been hungry before. It’s...uncomfortable.”

Castiel sat on the bed beside him. “You do know that I understand, don’t you?’

He manoeuvred himself into a sitting position and rolled his eyes. “Yes, Castiel, I am well aware you have been here and done this. How did you even know what it was you needed?”

He watched his brother tilt his head to one side and frown off into the distance. “The first time, I had the Winchesters to help me. It was...very slow, and you killed me shortly before I got used to it. But I had gotten to the point where I needed to eat and sleep. The second time was...difficult. My Grace was stolen from me by Metatron and when the angels all fell to Earth, I was deposited in a place I was not familiar with and I had to live off the streets for a while. I had very little money on me. I spent it on water. Hunger and thirst were easy for me to recognise. Sleep was...not easy for me. I don’t really recognise that I am tired until I am to the point of falling asleep where I am. And bathroom breaks. Showers, urination and defecation. Showers are good and relaxing. There is a lot of urination. Defecation is...it depends on how well your digestive system is working, what you ate and how well you are. It can be soft and easy to pass, or hard and painful. If you eat anything your body doesn’t like or you are unwell, it is more like very messy liquid that happens so often it hurts.”

And that was it for him. He wanted off this crazy ride right now. He stared at his brother, who was talking from personal experience. He could feel his eyes open wider than normal. “That sounds terrifying. Thanks, Castiel, I am now officially terrified.”

Castiel looked to the floor and nodded. “It is a very scary thing to go through. And you are very new to this. You don’t even know what you like food wise yet or if you have allergies. Was Nick allergic to anything?”

He closed his eyes and looked inwards. While Nick had vacated to Heaven a long time ago to be with his family, he could still access the memories of his life, as they were contained in the brain and he had shared headspace with the man for long enough to gain them. He shook his head. “No allergies he knew of. Well, at least that is one worry off my mind.”

Castiel nodded once sharply, before getting to his feet. “I will go and get you something to eat. What is it you wanted?”

Lucifer gave a hopeless shrug of his shoulders, before letting himself fall onto his side on the mattress. “I was going to have some plain toast and work my way up from there...”

With another quick nod, Castiel exited the room, closing the door behind him.

Lucifer hugged himself. He hadn’t lied to his little brother before. Knowing what kinds of things human bodies did to keep themselves functioning and he would have to go through it all terrified him.

He hoped Castiel took his statements as exaggerations.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam was surprised that Lucifer allowed himself to be carried out, going so far as to ask for it to happen. He seemed more the type to try to walk and collapse and unwillingly be carried off against his will.

He doesn’t like his own reactions or Dean’s for that matter, when Lucifer had gone to reach for food. He had no idea what it would be like to decide out of the blue to try something new like that only to be stared at for it. Not to think that Chuck probably brought him out here to socialize instead of suffering alone in the bedroom that had been assigned to him.

It had made the remainder of breakfast rather awkward for him. Dean seemed to have perked up with having Lucifer stay with them though, even if it was just to laugh at his misfortune. He was still staring into his now empty bowl of what used to be corn flakes, lost in thought when Cass appeared again.

He saw Dean, still eating, though having moved onto eggs and toast. Sam reached out for an orange as their angel walked to the table. Dean immediately looked him over carefully for injury. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Why were you gone so long?” Dean asked.

Cass looked to his father, before looking back to Dean. “Lucifer wanted to talk. I think I scared him...”

Sam choked on a mouthful of coffee he had been drinking at the time. “You scared Lucifer? How?!”

Cass looked to him and shrugged. “He wanted to know how I could understand body cues. I didn’t know how to answer that properly, so told him things he would need to know instead.”

Chuck cleared his throat and dropped his fork. “Yeah, I forgot to mention that he’s going to be on manual for a while. His Grace is concentrating on healing itself. It can’t sustain the vessel, which means he needs to do it himself.”

Sam’s eyebrows raised. “Oh, so he wasn’t going to try food because he was curious but because he needed it?”

Chuck nodded. “Yeah. We found that out when we were walking down here and Lucifer realised he was feeling hunger.”

“Wait, you mean to tell me he’s going to be like Cass when he was losing his angel mojo during the apocalypse?” Dean asked, pushing his plate away. “Because that was a nightmare for him and us. None of us knew what to expect. And he kept conking out without warning.”

Chuck frowned but nodded. “Yes. I expect Lucifer will be worse. Lucifer does not do well when scared. On the other hand, he’ll be spending a lot of time asleep for the next few days.”

“He understands the cues to know he is tired. I never got that. I don’t think he is feeling thirst though, which I did,” Castiel stated, while reaching out for two pieces of dry toast and putting them on a plate. 

“Get him a glass of water too, then, and get him to drink it,” Chuck stated, before standing up. He swayed a bit where he stood. “And I am going to go lie down. I’ll see you all at lunch.”

It surprised Sam a bit when Chuck actually physically walked out instead of teleporting himself instantly to the room. He kept forgetting that Lucifer wasn’t the only one running at low power. “Do you want any help, Cass?” he asked, because he had the urge to do something productive.

“No, I don’t think Lucifer will want company while he eats. Unlike humans, he seems to think it a solitary act.”

Nodding, he sighed and got up. “Okay, I’ll get food for our prisoner then. Someone needs to feed her.”

Dean smiled at that. “I’ll go with you, Sammy. Let’s see what the bitch knows.”

With chores planned, they all set out to feed or interrogate.

He hoped this didn’t turn out to be another end of the world scenario.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer finds out the downside of sleeping a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not happy with this chapter. Mainly because I am worried over posting it, lol. You'll see why.
> 
> Supernatural should stop killing Gabriel as he's my favourite! Also, I don't think Lucifer would ever truly try for redemption without his Dad. Which is why this story is a redemption one involving Chuck staying with Lucifer instead of running off to play happy families with his sister. 
> 
> Don't know if people will be happy with this or not, but I will probably be bringing Kelly into this, but in a non sexual role. Mainly because I headcanon Lucifer as a sex repulsed Ace so hard. As opposed to my Castiel being a sex neutral Ace. Also, anyone want Gabriel to be brought in during season 12 (and NOT die horribly again...) since this has already gone way AU. Let's have Chuck be a dad to all his wounded kids that are on Earth.

Chapter Six

Lucifer waited impatiently for Castiel to get back. He was having trouble staying awake, but he knew he needed to eat before he did conk out again. He spent the time hugging himself close and ruffling up the feathers on the parts of his wing that were free from the bandages.

Thankfully, Castiel seemed to have gone to get him food and walked right back. He noted he also held a glass of water. He frowned at that. “What’s the water for?”

Castiel stared blankly at him. “To drink. Father said you should have some water. You need to keep hydrated.”

He sighed at that, before forcing himself back into an upright position from where he had been lying on his side. He looked at the toast on the plate. His brother handed it over to him and put the glass down on a bedside table. He blinked at that, not even realising he had furniture other than a bed and a chest of drawers for clothes.

He picked up one of the two pieces of toast and bit into it. Yeah, it was bland and dry and now also slightly cold, but he was hungry and it was there. He ate both pieces slowly, glad it helped ease the horrible feeling of hunger. 

He didn’t want the water though. He glared at the glass on the bedside table with the thought that, if he was even remotely well he’d be able to smash the thing with a look. He tried to do so, even though he knew it would fail. Still, at least he couldn’t be called a quitter and he could always knock the thing off with a hand if he felt like it.

Castiel must have sensed where his thoughts were going, because he picked the glass back up. “You are not feeling thirst. That does not mean you don’t have to drink.”

He whined. “But I don’t want it. It’ll make me have to pee.”

Castiel closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. “Trust me, you’d be peeing anyway. Drink the water and I will leave you to sleep.”

Frowning, he grabbed the glass out of his brother’s hand, because he could still grip things fine, thank you very much. 

Maybe Castiel was right about him not feeling the cues for thirst, because the moment he had his first small sip he gulped the rest down, as it soothed his throat and felt cool and refreshing. It didn’t change anything in his body as far as he felt, but he did know that he felt it go down to his stomach.

It felt weird. He hadn’t felt that with the toast.

He frowned confused down at the empty glass, before handing both that and the plate over to his waiting sibling.

He yawned loudly and let himself flop down on the bed, his eyes already closing now he was fed and watered. He sighed, curled up on his side and shifted around until he wasn’t lying on his wings. He was out before Castiel had reached the door.

He had no idea how long he had been asleep when he was woken up by the weirdest feeling. He shifted and grimaced because he was not expecting to stick to the duvet on top of his bed. He had once again forgotten to get under the covers. And they and him were wet and sticky.

For a few seconds, he thought maybe it was that he had somehow overheated and had begun sweating, until he realised exactly where all the grossness was on his body and shame washed through him.

Castiel told him he’d likely feel cues. But he hadn’t. Wasn’t he supposed to wake up so he could get someone to help him? Did he miss the cues because of his being asleep at the time, or did he just not have them, like apparently he didn’t feel thirst right.

He couldn’t be seen like this from anyone. He needed to change the bed and his clothes before anyone came in and saw. He knew it was an irrational thought, as it wasn’t just the sight and feel that would give it away. It was also the smell. It was thick and rank. It permeated the whole room and he just wanted out of there as fast as possible.

He slowly slid himself to the side of the bed, pulled himself upright and using the nightstand, got to a standing position. His legs held him up, but he knew if he wasn’t holding on to anything, he’d probably fall right to the ground.

Slowly, he shuffled forward towards the chest of drawers, hoping that he had a change of clothes in there. Surely his dad would have given him some so he wouldn’t have to wear the same thing. He was already sweaty and covered in his own urine. He needed a shower, a change of clothes and a change of room.

He made it to the drawers and, one at a time opened them, only to find every single one of them empty. Hopelessness washed over him and he let himself sink to the ground. This was...this was too much. He couldn’t do anything right like this. He wanted to be well again, he wanted to be able to switch off the body responses and live like the angel he was, not the human he inhabited.

He had no idea what he was doing. 

Right then all he wanted was to curl up in a ball. He felt the beginning of fear rearing up on him again and his breath caught in his chest. Humans needed to breathe or they would die, and he was depending right now on his vessel staying alive to keep him going. He was dependent on it. He didn’t know if he would die or not if the body did, but he would be cut off from basically everything.

He couldn’t breathe properly now. All he could do was give short gasping gulps of air which wasn’t helping in the least.

Shit, shit, was his vessel dying?! Great, his vessel was dying. He was so injured that it affected even this. 

A whimper made it out of his mouth and, a few seconds later the door opened.

“Lucifer?! Did you fall? Is that what got you so upset?” he was asked and it took him much longer than he should to notice it was his dad come to check up on him. He was screaming in panic in his head. Dad must have heard and come running.

He whimpered again and reached out. He seriously couldn’t care less right now about the state of his bed, or clothes, or skin. All he wanted was to not die.

“Hey, it’s okay. No, you’re not dying. You’ll be fine. The panic will pass and you’ll be able to breathe again properly when it has. Do you want to try matching my breaths? It might help.”

Slowly, he was pulled into his dad’s arms and his ear was pushed against his chest. The steady beat of a heart and the motions of lungs did oddly seem to have a relaxing effect on him and he tried to match the breathing rate. He didn’t succeed at first, coughing instead. But slowly he got it better and after five minutes, he was still shaky but feeling like he would live through the next five. He kept the breathing at the slow deep pace his dad had set and began to calm down.

“There, see? Much better. What caused that to happen?” he was asked, after a half hour of calm silence.

He grimaced. “I’ve got no clothes...” And saying that out loud made him feel so damn stupid, because who has a damned panic attack over not having clean clothes?

“Oh, sorry. I’m so used to you and your siblings wearing the same clothes in a vessel that I forgot you would need them. Did you want a shower? There’s a stool in there you can sit on so you don’t have to stand to have a shower. I have already cleaned up your bed and clothes. So, what kind of things do you want?”

He blinked and looked down. He hadn’t even noticed that he was now dry. He still felt dirty though. Either his dad knew he wanted a shower to truly feel clean again, or he didn’t think of it.

“Ummm...something to sleep in would be nice. Maybe some other shirts and pants. A pair of jeans? A jacket. Just...clothes.”

“Okay, how about we start with the pj’s and work on to other clothes starting tomorrow.”

He nodded, not exactly happy with just that, but knowing it was better than nothing, and at least he would be changing his clothes. He wanted the ones that come with the body washed ASAP.

His Dad then carried him to the bathroom, sat him down on a bench and let him undress himself. It was embarrassing, it was infuriating that he was watched while doing it and it made him tired again, even though it was about time to eat lunch. He had slept for hours.

He was determined to at least enjoy the shower. Castiel had said that showers were a plus.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam had given the woman a dry piece of toast, a small serving of scrambled egg and two pieces of bacon for breakfast and left.

He really didn’t want to watch his brother getting info out of her. He had the feeling that since the Mark, Dean tended to like the more...bloodier parts of their work more than he should.

He always worried that the Mark had done to Dean what it had done to Lucifer. And he was terrified of Lucifer for damn good reason. The years of torture at his and Michael’s hands was enough to make him wish to never see an Archangel ever again. He also remembered being chased through the bunker by Dean, intent on killing him.

The demon part was just as much an issue as the angel part while in the cage. Dean as a demon had been Dean but more. Lucifer in his true form was the same...

He shivered and made his way to the library to read for a while. He had a couple of hours before he had to face the Devil again, thankfully, and he wanted to be calm and collected by that time.

It was so weird seeing him so weak and in need of help, because Sam still had trouble seeing him as anything other than his personal torturer. Still, he would try, if for no other reason than Chuck was here and by the looks of it, willing to stay and get Lucifer back to what he was before the Mark.

He wondered if Chuck would be willing to also talk to Dean about the Mark...

He also wanted to make sure he was never left in a room alone with Lucifer.


End file.
